


Detroit Become Human: Slice of Life

by Feena_c



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family, Fluff, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-01 02:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15133523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feena_c/pseuds/Feena_c
Summary: Series of DBH one-shots focused on Connor and Hank being bros/family.  Set in a loose-canon, post good ending world with Connor still working for the DPD with Hank.





	1. Art Thou Afeard?

     Connor stepped out from the police department and glanced to the side, noticing that where the sunset typically would be at this time the light was blocked--a large bank of dark clouds.  Very dark. Connor had seen plenty of rain and snow in his short life, but these clouds had a slightly odd hue to them. Connor’s LED flashed as he analyzed, but Hank spoke up beside him just as the results came back. 

“Looks like we’re in for a doozy.” 

Connor’s LED continued flashing for a moment as he looked back at Hank, the data from the weather station and his own analysis agreeing with Hank’s assessment, although he wouldn’t have phrased it that way.  He added ‘doozy’ to his list of words to try using in the next week. 

Hank started towards the parking area and his car.  “Hurry up Connor, don’t wanna get caught in the rain do you?” 

“Coming,”  Connor called, easily catching up with the Lieutenant.  Hank sped home, but only about 5 over so Connor said nothing.  Saying anything would only make Hank go faster, anyway. 

The pair of detectives darted into the house just as the first drops of rain started to fall, and lightning crackled in the distance.  Sumo stomped over and greeted the pair, although Connor got the impression he was more concerned with getting dinner than anything else.  

Hank went to change into something that didn’t require a belt while Connor fed Sumo.  The rain and wind were both intense now, and once Sumo was situated Connor went to the window and leaned down, looking up at the sky and watching the lightning.  He could hear Hank in the kitchen pulling something out of the fridge (Connor hoped it was the leftover salad he’d made, not leftover take out) and then walking into the living room and plopping on the couch. 

“How’s it look?” 

“The wind speed is--”

Hank snorted loudly, not wanting a precision report. 

“It’s a doozy,”  Connor said, straightening and giving Hank a small smile.  Hank chuckled. 

“Told ya.”

Then the lights suddenly went out.  

“Aw, shit!”  Hank exclaimed in the darkness.  

“I’ve got it, Hank,”  Connor held up his hand, instead of projecting an image he simply sent out a beam of light--right into Hank’s face. 

“Gah!” 

Connor lowered his hand. “Sorry.” 

“What the--is that your hand?  You have a flashlight hand? Since when?”

“It’s not a flashlight hand.  I’m using the--”

“Don’t--don’t explain it.  I wouldn’t understand anyway.”

Connor smiled in amusement.  “A flashlight is a good analogy.”

A bright flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room as if it were day, before it went dark again and a loud crash of thunder seemed to shake the house.  Connor stood still, staring blankly at the roof. 

Hank had continued eating his pizza (with a side salad), glancing at Connor’s stiff stance. 

“What’s up?” 

“Just checking the sturdiness of the building in comparison with the wind,”  Connor said, LED calming. 

“Is it gonna collapse before I finish this salad?” 

“No, unless the weather turns more serious, there’s no danger of the house collapsing.”

“Too bad,”  Hank said, stuffing lettuce into his mouth. 

Connor laughed lightly.  He’d learned to take Hank’s dry humor in stride. 

“No offense Connor, but you standing there with that light just watching me eat is kinda creepy,”  Hank said after another couple mouthfuls. The lightning flashing outside occasionally, turning Connor briefly into just a dark silhouette, wasn’t making it any less like an old horror film. 

“Oh, sorry.”  Connor moved around and sat down on the couch, keeping the light directed at the floor. 

Hank chewed thoughtfully for a minute, then glanced sideways at Connor.  “Hey, uh, you ever seen a horror film?” 

Connor shook his head.  “No, you know everything I’ve seen.”  Since the revolution Connor had watched a few things with Hank.  Before that he’d never… well, he hadn’t done recreational things.  Hank nodded. He sometimes forgot that Connor hadn’t had a life, in any sense, before Hank had known him.  He looked like an adult, but he was only a few months old. 

“We should watch one.  See if an android can jump outta its skin,”  Hank chuckled. 

Connor was thoughtful for a moment, analyzing.  “Horror films are designed to be frightening.” 

Hank nodded, setting down his empty plate on the coffee table. 

“Why?” 

“What’d you mean?” Hank asked, getting comfortable. 

“Why would humans want to watch something frightening?  I admit my experience is limited, but the few times I’ve felt fear it hasn’t been… enjoyable.  I do not want to replicate that feeling purposefully.” 

Hank pulled at his beard.  “That’s different.” 

“Different?” 

“Yea, like… how the fuck do I explain this.  Emotions you feel in real life like, for real shit… they’re a little different than ones when you watch a movie or something like that.  Getting scared on purpose is… fun!” Hank finished simply.

Connor’s LED flashed yellow briefly, trying to reconcile the ideas of ‘fear’ and ‘fun’.  They were, to his mind, practically opposites. However, a quick search of online material showed him that Hank’s statement seemed to be accurate.  Humans did seem to enjoy being scared at times. Connor frowned slightly, still unconvinced as he remembered how it felt when he’d seen Hank being held at gunpoint by the other Connor, or when he’d thought he might be shut down. 

“Haven’t you ever--” Hank started to speak again, but was interruped by Connor yelping and standing, flashing Hank in the eyes as he directed the ‘flashlight’ behind them.  Sumo stood behind the sofa, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “What the shit, kid?” Hank asked. 

“Uh, sorry.  I was thinking and didn’t notice Sumo come up behind me.  He licked my ear and it startled me,” Connor explained hastily.  Hank snorted and laughed, Connor chuckling with him after a moment and sitting back down, beckoning Sumo around to sit at his feet. 

“See?  That’s what I’m talking about!” 

“What?” Connor asked, scratching Sumo behind the ears. 

“You were startled--scared, right?”

Connor analyzed what he’d felt.  “I--not exactly scared, I didn’t have time to get scared exactly.”

“Okay, because you realized it was just Sumo, yea?  So you didn’t get scared because you realized it was safe?” 

Connor nodded. 

“So, watching a horror film is like that.  You’re safe, you know you’re safe, but you get to enjoy being ‘scared’ anyway, see?” 

Connor tilted his head, considering.  His search brought up a word several times.  

“So, it’s a way to get adrenaline?” 

“Yea, I guess.” 

“Androids don’t have adrenaline, Hank.” 

Hank snorted and picked up his plate.  “Yea, and they’re not supposed to have feelings or be people either, but lookit you?  Come on, bring your flashlight hand over here so I can take this to the kitchen.”

Connor followed.  Hank set his plate in the sink and then turned, leaning against it and looking at Connor.  “You get excited about stuff, you know. That’s similar. Like solving a case. You’re all jazzed when we do that, yea?” 

Connor was thoughtful again.  Part of him wondered if that satisfied feeling was a lingering bit of Cyberlife’s programming, part of what had been set up to make him go deviant.  But it had continued, even after he’d severed ties--in all ways--with Cyberlife. “Yes, I do,” he agreed. 

“Okay.  So, if you can get scared, and you can get excited, I bet you can get a rush from a good scary flick too.”  Distant thunder punctuated Hank’s words. The storm was rolling on, past the city. 

Connor shrugged a shoulder.  “I suppose it’s possible.” 

Hank walked past Connor, gesturing for him to follow with his light.  “Good, cause it’s only 7ish and it’s gonna start getting humid in here with no power.  We’re going to the theater.” 


	2. How to Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this was just supposed to be some cute fun but Connor wanted to talk about life and shit. This kid.

    “Connor, what the hell are you doing?”  Hank asked, surprised as he walked into his kitchen to find Connor tying up a large trashbag.  Several others were around him, neatly tied. 

“Cleaning,” he answered simply.

“Cleaning what?  What’re you throwing out?  I know the place ain’t spotless but have you got the entire contents of my cupboards in those bags or what?”

“No, just anything alcoholic.” 

Hank gaped.  “What?” 

Connor stood, picking up four bags at once and turning towards him.  “You said you were going to quit drinking, remember? Last night?” 

“I was fucking drunk when I said that, I wasn’t serious!”  Hank shouted, barring Connor’s way as the android headed for the door and presumably the trash can outside, ultimately. 

Connor gave Hank a look.  “Well, if being drunk leads you to make false promises, that’s just another reason to stop.  Excuse me.” 

Hank frowned, ready to yell again, but the comment had hit home a bit more than he liked.  “Connor, look kid… I appreciate all the worrying about my health--to a certain extent--but I’m not gonna just completely stop drinking, and certainly not cold turkey.  So leave my shit alone, and put it back where you found it.”

“I can hardly leave it alone while putting it away.”  Connor had a look. Hank scowled. The look was joking, but also had a little element underlying it; stubbornness.  Connor had always been stubborn, even before he’d gone deviant. The trait hadn’t lessened since. It had magnified, and taken on that joking note which frankly Hank found all too familiar.  The damn kid was picking shit up from him. 

“Connor, you know what the fuck I meant.” 

“And you know I’m not going to do that, Hank.  This is for your own good.” Connor continued talking over Hank’s objections.  “I’m not expecting you to go ‘cold turkey’. I’ve left some beer in the house, and you can order alcoholic drinks, to a limited extent, when we go out.  However, you do not need to have hard liquor in the house.”

Hank was silent, and a bit red faced.  “Fucking--” Hank moved around Connor, going for the bags he’d left behind.  “You’d better not have touched my whiskey!” 

Connor had anticipated Hank might try to get at the bags Connor couldn’t pick up, and had therefore left only ones with actual waste on the floor.  He darted out with the bags he was carrying. He returned to find Hank staring into the bag Connor had set aside for glass bottles; empty glass bottles.  Connor had dumped their contents down the kitchen sink before Hank returned from his errand. 

Hank looked at him, a mixture of anger, annoyance, and plain shock at Connor’s audacity.  “You fucking dumped out all my shit, didn’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

Hank made a disgusted sound, looking away for a moment then back sharply.  “You’re a real dick sometimes, you know that? Do you have any idea how much money you just put into the fucking drain?” 

“Two hundred--”

“Don’t fucking tell me the exact amount, Connor!  Fucking--” Hank dropped the edges of the bag he’d been looking into and leaned back in his seat, face turned heavenward and covered by his hands.

Connor stared at him critically, reading his stress levels and trying to assess just how badly he’d actually upset the man.  He knew that it could be difficult for humans to break addictions, but this was for Hank’s own good. 

Hank dragged his hands down his face and looked at Connor.  “You know I’m a grown-ass adult right? I can fucking drink if I want to, it’s a bloody right.” 

Connor’s frown deepened.  Technically Hank was correct, and it had recently become very important to Connor to respect people’s rights.  He hadn’t thought about this from that perspective, he’d just been doing something to benefit Hank’s health. 

“I…”  Connor stopped, LED flashing yellow as he continued to process.  “I’m sorry, Hank. I didn’t think of it that way. I was trying to help.  It’s dangerous to--” Connor stopped himself. He wasn’t sure if he should be trying to argue with Hank, to convince him it was healthier to reduce his intake of alcohol.  Hank was aware of the negative side effects, was it Connor’s place to try to convince him not to do something he’d chosen to do? Where did persuasion fit in with freewill? 

Hank noted Connor’s extended silence and flashing LED.  “Hey! Connor!” He slapped the table, startling Connor from his thoughts.  Connor looked at him, the mildly distressed crease of his brows not subsiding.  Hank swore internally. “What are you over-heating about now?”

“I was considering if it was right for me to try and convince you to stop drinking.  Since it’s something you’ve freely chosen to do. Objectively, it would be better for you to stop.  But… “

“Oh hell, Connor.  Why do you have to make everything into such a big deal?  Come here and sit the fuck down before you blow a fuse or something.” 

Connor came and sat.  

Hank rubbed his face, resting one arm against the table as he eyed Connor.  “Okay, short version. People with freewill don’t always do smart shit, or agree about shit.  They usually don’t, frankly. There’s nothing wrong with trying to convince people to change their minds, or arguing about shit.  Hell, for a good enough cause, like freedom, it can be okay to use more than words even. You don’t have to give in to me just because I want to do something, any more than I do to you, okay?” 

Connor looked down, processing.  

“But… I don’t want to upset you.”

Hank snorted.  “People upset each other all the time, it’s part of life.  If you go around just trying not to upset anyone you’re not gonna have much fun, or success.”

“Isn’t it good to be concerned about the feelings and rights of others, though?” 

“Yea, shit. Connor you’re asking a lotta big questions and making a lotta leaps.  Okay. Yes, you shouldn’t just be a dick to people. You also shouldn’t be a doormat and let people walk all over you, got it?”

Connor frowned.  “I… think. How do you know when to back down and when to push, though?”

Hank rubbed at his temple.  “This would be a great time for a drink, Connor.”

“There’s still beer in the fridge.”

Hank eyed Connor warily, but didn’t move for the fridge.  “Knowing when to back down and when to stand up can be tough, kid.  It’s not always clear cut. Figuring that out for yourself, and fucking it up sometimes, is part of life.  Sorry, but I can’t just hand you a fuckin’ manual. You’re gonna have to figure out some of this for yourself.  Trial and error.” 

Connor laced his fingers thoughtfully, nodding slowly.  

“You can ask my advice, though.  No promises I’ll always be right either.  Oh, except this one. If it’s Reed? He’s fucking wrong and you should definitely push back.  Probably literally.”

Connor chuckled.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”  A pause. “So, should I push on the drinking or…?”  Connor angled his head, watching Hank’s face. Hank sighed.  

“You had to ask.  You probably should,”  Hank said, voice strained at the admission.  “I ain’t gonna make it easy, though.” 

“You never make things easy.” 

Hank shot Connor a glare, but the kid was smiling affectionately.  

“You’re a little shit, you know that?  Hand me a fucking beer, you brat,” Hank gestured to the fridge. 

Connor stood, putting one hand on the handle.  “How much have you had to drink so far today? Did you get anything while you were out?” Connor questioned. 

“This’ll be my first today, actually,  _ mother _ .” 


	3. Dusty

Hank glanced across his desk to Connor sitting across from him.  They were between cases at the moment and helping dig up some background information on some suspects for another case.  Well, Connor was probably doing that. Hank was browsing the internet and now, watching Connor. Connor seemed to be developing a tick.  Well, he already had several; his coin and fixing different parts of his clothes. But the last half hour he seemed to be tilting his head with some frequency, and shaking it just slightly.  Hank was beginning to worry slightly. 

“You okay, kid?”  Hank asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Connor looked over.  “Hmm? Yes, why?” Connor put his hand to his face as he made the motion again. 

Hank raised an eyebrow.  “That’s why? You got a virus or something?” 

“I regularly self-scan.  I’m--I’m--” Connor sneezed.  

Hank looked at him in confusion.  “Are you sick?” 

“I cannot get ‘sick’, Hank.”  Connor answered.

“You just sneezed. I’ve never heard you sneeze before.  You don’t even have like, sinuses do you? Why’re you sneezing?” 

“I can still get dust in my systems.  Normally I would return to Cyberlife for regular checks and cleaning, but that’s not happening now so my auxiliary system is starting to handle the dust.” 

Hank chuckled.  “So you’re developing allergies,”  Hank said to himself more than anything. 

“I’m not allergic to dust.  I’m just removing it from my system so it doesn’t coat my biocomponents and create problems.” 

“So you’re allergic.” 

“It’s not an allergy, it’s more like--” 

“Connor, please don’t explain it.”

“But--”  Connor sneezed again and Hank laughed. 

\----

 

Connor returned to his desk after going to the records room a few minutes later and stopped.  Sitting in front of his display was a box of tissues. Connor sat down and looked across at Hank, who was watching him out of the corner of his eyes.  He snickered at Connor’s jokingly annoyed expression. 

“I told you I don’t have allergies Hank.  I don’t need tissues; I don’t produce mucus.”

“Can’t take a friendly gesture?”  Hank replied. 

“... I appreciate the thought.  But here,” Connor slid the box across his desk towards Hank.  Then sneezed again as dust molecules from the box flew into the air.  

Hank raised an eyebrow as Connor got an irritated expression and tossed the box over the pile of files into Hank’s lap. 

“You’re making it worse, actually.  So I retract my appreciation.” 

Hank set the box aside on his own desk, grinning at Connor.  “Sorry, kiddo.” 


	4. Healthy and Balanced

Connor glanced over his shoulder as Hank returned from taking Sumo outback for a bathroom break.  

“Welcome back,”  Connor smiled as he continued chopping peppers without looking at his hands.  

“You’re gonna cut one of your fingers off, kid.  Eyes forward,” Hank commented. 

Connor didn’t need to be looking but he obliged, it was simpler than trying to convince Hank he could cut vegetables with minimal concentration.  He added the peppers to the frying pan and carefully stirred its contents. He wasn’t creative when it came to cooking, but he could make any recipe he set his mind to, at least so far.  He’d never tried anything particularly “skilled”, such as decorated cakes or candies, but his goal was getting Hank healthier, not to become a master chef. 

Hank unleashed Sumo and washed his hands.  “What cha making?” 

“It’s a recipe I found for chicken and vegetables in tortillas,”  Connor replied, gesturing towards the counter. 

Hank eyed the assortment of produce and the wheat tortillas, rolling his eyes minimally.  Honestly, he thought it was amusing watching Connor fuss, and sort of touching. Not that he’d ever say the latter to Connor.  

“Don’t knock them till you’ve tried them.  I analyzed the ingredients and they should provide a similar taste and texture with more fiber and protein.”  Connor had noticed Hank’s reaction, not much got by Connor. Or at least, he noticed things even if he didn’t always understand things correctly. 

“Yea yea, I’m sure.”  Hank went to the living room but didn’t turn on the TV.  Instead he plopped down and glanced around, noting the tidied space.  Connor didn’t sleep, and he didn’t need to run system checks for very long at night.  It left him a lot of time when Hank was asleep to clean. Hank didn’t mind to a point, although it felt a bit strange not having any shit laying around.  Hank had grown used to clutter. Hank pulled up the news and after a quick check if there were any updates on Markus’ work started reading the comics. 

“It’s ready!”  Connor called from the kitchen a few minutes later. 

Hank carried his tablet into the kitchen and sat down, glancing up at Connor sitting near him with an intent look.  ‘Uh oh’ Hank thought as he set his tablet down. 

“Looks good,”  Hank commented, then stared at Connor for a moment before resting his elbows on the table.  “What’s on your mind, Connor?” 

“We have the day off tomorrow.  I was wondering if you’d like to go shopping?” 

Hank mentally sighed in relief.  Connor sometimes took dinnertime as an opportunity to ask Serious Questions.  Hank preferred dinnertime to be just that; time to eat dinner. 

Hank took a bite and raised an eyebrow at Connor.  “What chu want?” 

Connor shook his head.  “Not for me, for you.” 

Hank swallowed.  “Uh, what for?” 

“Clothes.” 

“Er, you’ve seen my closet.  I have tons of clothes. What do I need to go clothes shopping for?” 

Connor’s LED blinked yellow once, as he internally resolved not to mention anything about Hank’s ‘style’.  “Since I’ve been living with you you’ve lost 18 pounds and 6 ounces. Your clothes were none too tight when we might, I thought you might want to get some things more appropriately sized.” 

Hank chuckled, trying to avoid spitting out his food.  “Didn’t know you were monitoring my weight that precisely.” 

“I could monitor many aspects of your health, Hank, if you let me.  Are you aware--” 

Hank held up a hand.  “If I want the full report, I’ll make a doctor’s appointment, kid.” 

“Since you mention it, I think you ought to consider a physical soon.  While I have access to a large amount of information on human physiology, I’m not a physician or a medical assistance android--”

“Kid!  Chill.” 

Connor decided to back off from the idea of a doctor’s appointment for now.  The issue had gotten Hank cranky before. 

“Back to my original question; would you like to go shopping tomorrow?” 

Hank shook his head.  “Nah. I don’t mind my stuff being comfy.  I don’t need to be poured into my clothes like you,”  Hank teased. 

Connor smiled, almost a smirk.  “My clothes fit practically perfectly.  I’m not ‘poured’ into them.” 

“Practically?” 

Connor shrugged a shoulder.  “Well, they aren’t specifically tailored for me like my Cyberlife uniform, but they are as well fitted as could be without the services of an actual tailor.” 

“They seriously tailored your shit at Cyberlife?” 

Connor nodded.  “Professionalism was a very important part of the companies model.  They wanted to portray the best possible face to the public, including making sure androids were dressed perfectly.” 

Hank scoffed.  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” 

Connor tilted his head.  “You disapproved of their uniform designs?” 

Hank made a noncommittal face.  Connor waited expectantly. “Let’s just say I prefer your clothes now to the uniform, k?” 

Connor blinked.  “Why?” 

Hank gave him an annoyed look.  He wasn’t gonna say something as stupid and sentimental as ‘cause you picked it’.  The look was enough for Connor to drop the issue. 

“Well, I suppose if you prefer your clothes to be loose fitting, that’s not my business.  Do you have another proposal for tomorrow’s activities?” 

Hank took a drink (of juice) and looked thoughtful.  “Actually, yea. You remember that documentary of the great lakes you were watching a couple weeks ago?”

Connor nodded.  

“I think we should take a little drive outta the city and get a look at proper beach.  What do you think?” 

Connor smiled and nodded enthusiastically.  “I’d love to!” He stood, reaching over for Hank’s empty plate.  “Want more?” 

“I can serve myself, but sure.”  He handed Connor his plate. “The whole wheat tortillas are okay.” 

Connor grinned and went to the stove. 


End file.
